


Into the Fire

by selenehekate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenehekate/pseuds/selenehekate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're twenty-three, you're a healer - a brilliant witch - and you look absolutely stunning. No man could possibly turn you down tonight, Hermione." But Severus Snape has never just been any man... Post-Hogwarts</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Fire

"I don't know why you're so nervous," Ginny Weasley said with a roll of her eyes. The redhead witch tucked her arm further into the crook of her best friend's elbow. "You look absolutely wonderful. You should be excited, not looking like a witch about to be caught in the Cruciatus Curse!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as they circled around the edges of the Great Hall. "That's rather crude."

Ginny gave a small laugh as she pulled away from her friend. "Oh, hush now! This is your chance to meet someone, Hermione. Here, at the Hogwarts Alumnus' Ball! With all of your old friends... all of your old crushes... Like, say, Cormac McLaggen?"

Hermione blinked as her nose wrinkled in distaste. "Stop torturing me, Ginny. You know perfectly well that Cormac was a pompous arse with an ego that rivals Voldemort's himself."

She laughed. "And you say that I'm crude. But now's your chance to see what else Hogwarts has to offer, Hermione." Ginny poked the older girl in the arm. "There are bachelors galore here tonight, and one of them will undoubtably match your interests."

"You say that as though I'm desperate to find a man."

"I know I'd be if I were you," Ginny confessed. "I mean, after Ron chose Lavender Brown, of all people, over you-"

"I was never interested in your brother. Not in that way," Hermione snapped.

"All I know is that he's now engaged, and you're still single," she pointed out, raising her eyebrows at the brunette witch. "Come now, there has to be someone you fancied as a girl. Someone you would have loved to snog senseless."

Hermione sighed. "Ginny-"

"Well, now's your chance. You're twenty-three, you're a healer - a brilliant witch - and you look absolutely stunning. No man could possibly turn you down tonight, Hermione."

"I don't need a man to be happy, Ginny," Hermione said. She tried to look stern, but her words were viciously undercut by her actions, as she self-consciously pulled at her form-fitting royal blue dress robes.

"Perhaps you don't," Ginny said as she lifted her arm, waving at Harry Potter from across the room. The Boy Who Lived spotted them and began to head their way. "But having a man certainly doesn't hurt," she said, before she pulled away from Hermione and stepped forward to embrace Harry, giving him a long kiss on the lips before she took the hand of her husband and began to lead him towards the drink table. Harry looked over his shoulder, giving Hermione a confused glance before he shrugged and followed after his overly aggressive wife.

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at Ginny's idiotic words. How could she possibly find a suitable man here, of all places? She knew most of the people in this very room. She knew their strengths and their weaknesses, she knew their childhood attitudes and how they've grown over the years. She knew their secret desires and fears. She knew the men at this little party all too well. That was part of the problem, of course. She already knew almost everything about her old classmates; there was no mystery or intrigue associated with them. Sure they were all nice enough people, but she wanted to reminisce with these men, not date them. No, none of the bachelors of Hogwarts captivated her attention. Save but one, that is...

She quickly shook the thought from her mind. No, that was impossible. He was much too surly, and she was much too irritating to him. They wouldn't last more than ten seconds without bickering. Still, despite her best attempts, she couldn't stop herself from scanning the room for his dark form.

"Ah, Hermione!" she heard from behind her.

She turned, her eyes meeting those of an elderly Scottish woman with her hair neatly folded up into a small bun. A smile blossomed onto Hermione's face. "Professor McGonagall! How lovely to see you again."

"And you as well," the Transfiguration professor said with a wrinkly smile. "But please, call me Minerva. You of all people have the right to view me as an equal, given what you managed to accomplish during your seven years at Hogwarts."

"I appreciate that, thank you. Have you been well, Minerva? Headmistress of Hogwarts is a rather daunting role, I'd imagine."

A wry smile crossed her face as she spoke. "Quite. However I am slowly edging closer and closer to my retirement."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, Minerva, no. How can this school lose such a wonderful witch?"

"There's only so much I can bare in my lifetime, my dear. Besides, I trust that Severus will be a fine replacement when the time comes for me to take my leave."

The younger witch paused before speaking, an unceremonious slight stutter making it's appearance in her voice. "I-is he taking over for y-you?"

"Oh, yes. And he'll do a magnificent job, as you can no doubt imagine. He'll certainly be meticulous about everything." She gave a short chuckle. "Of course, this means I'll need to hire a new potions master."

"That is the downside," Hermione said, a forced smile straining on her face. He would be the Headmaster again. Him. It must be nice for him, having all of that recognition. It was something she assumed he'd always wanted.

"What about you, eh? In order to become a healer, don't you have to complete the first two years of a potions apprenticeship?"

"Indeed," Hermione muttered. She wanted desperately to give her full attention to Minerva, but her mind was now wandering to her one-time potions professor. Was he excited about the job prospect? Did he even want it at all? Did he have any choice in the matter? There was just so much about him she still wanted to learn.

"You only have two years left to go, Hermione," Minerva said as she appraised the girl before her. "Two more years before you're a registered potions mistress."

"I suppose."

"Have you considered that? Going after the title, I mean." Minerva stepped closer to the girl. "It would mean more prestige, more payment... certainly more job opportunities."

"I've considered it," Hermione admitted. "But I'd need to find a master who would be willing to work around my schedule at St. Mungo's, and my hours can be very unpredictable. I highly doubt that anyone would want to accept me as an apprentice."

"You'd be surprised, my dear," Minerva said with a slight smile. "I'm almost certain you could find someone who'd be willing to teach a brilliant young witch like you."

"You could very well be right."

"Give it some more thought," Minerva said, laying a hand on the young witch's shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I still have the rounds to make."

"Of course," Hermione said, sending her favorite professor a large grin. "Good evening, Minerva."

"And to you, Hermione," Minerva said before she swept past the brunette and towards the center of the room.

Left alone, she slowly made her way to the refreshments table. She hadn't even really wanted to go to the reunion at all; she was never particularly close to any of her classmates outside of Harry, Ron, and Ginny, and any good memory that she had of the castle had been badly tainted by the Voldemort wars. Being back inside the Great Hall - standing feet away from where Remus Lupin had died - and laughing like nothing had occurred there was chilling to her. She wished the reunion had taken place somewhere else - then she might be able to let go a smidgen and have some fun - but the castle walls were haunting her, and it was hard to relax and enjoy the party.

She was really only there because Ginny had made her go. She knew her friend meant well - Ginny just wanted to see her happy - but the redhead came on much too strong. Hermione felt like she couldn't say 'no' to her friend once she got these daft man-hunting schemes into her mind. So she'd allowed Ginny to curl her hair into sleek ringlets that cascaded now her back in controlled spirals. She'd let Ginny tailor her dress robes so that they hugged her waist and flowed out around her hips. She'd even given in and worn the four inch silver heels that Ginny had forced on her. Yes, she followed her friend's instructions perfectly, but when it came to making a love connection with a former classmate, Hermione did nothing; she just didn't really care.

Neville was the first person to approach her after she had grabbed a tumbler of firewhiskey. As she knocked back a rather large sip of the burning drink, her old housemate walked up to her with a broad smile. "Hermione!"

She set the glass down on the table beside her and pulled him in for a quick hug. "Neville! How lovely to see you again. Are you well?"

"Very well. And you?" the boy said, his smile slightly crooked as he pulled back.

She grabbed her glass from the table beside her. "Excellent. I'm simply excellent, Neville." She took another sip of her drink, though this one was much smaller. "How is Luna? You two are still together, right?"

"Oh, uh, no. Actually, we're not," Neville said, wincing slightly at his words.

Hermione's bottom lip dropped as she hurried to find the right kind words to say. "Oh, how awful! But you two were so lovely together. What happened?"

"It's..." he hesitated. "It's a rather long story. Her dad... well, let's just leave it at that, shall we? Her dad played a roll in it."

"Ah, family. They never do what you want them to, do they?" Hermione said with a slow shake of her head. "Well, then. A toast. To moving on!" she said, lifting her glass slightly.

"To moving on," Neville complied as he grabbed a bottle of butterbeer from the table and took a swig. He swallowed, pausing before he spoke. "Is that what you're doing? Moving on?"

Hermione couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "From what, exactly?"

"From Ron. Isn't he engaged to Lavender Brown?"

She sighed, before quickly knocking back the rest of her glass. Why did nobody understand? "Neville, I was never romantically interested in Ron. Never. I don't care who he marries. Honest."

"Of course not," Neville said quickly. "Sorry." He sounded sincere, but Hermione got the impression that he didn't completely believe her. "So I suppose this means you're free for a dance?"

She snorted before she could stop herself. "I'm not one for dancing."

"Really, now?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "I seem to recall you dancing a lot at the Yule Ball in our fourth year. And enjoying it, too."

"Yes, well, my date wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Neither will I," he said with a large grin. He offered her his arm. "Come on, Hermione. Have a dance with me."

She opened her mouth to speak - to accept or decline, she wasn't entirely sure - but froze when she noticed a tall, dark figure moving silently against the wall opposite of her. He's here, she thought to herself. I didn't think he'd come at all.

"Hermione?"

Why do you care? she scolded herself. He's your old professor, emphasis on 'old!' So what if he's the most interesting person at this entire party? He wouldn't look at you twice, and you have absolutely no ties to him whatsoever. Just let it go!

"Hermione?"

"Hm? Oh!" She gave a bit of a start, a sheepish smile coming across her face as she tore her eyes away from the form of the school's brooding potions master. "I'm sorry, Neville. Now is... well, let's just say I need to have a few more drinks before I start making an arse out of myself on the dance-floor. But maybe later? I'll save you a dance."

Neville rolled his eyes, but he backed away with a grin. "You'd better! You owe me for old times' sake."

"Of course, of course. For old times' sake," she said, sending a small grin his way as he disappeared into the crowd. But her eyes were already searching the sea of people before them, looking for the dark man she'd just seen. She managed to spot him in an instant - of course he was the only one stubborn enough to wear black dress robes to a celebratory reunion ball. He just had to show his displeasure for the whole evening in his wardrobe, didn't he? A chuckle slipped from her lips as she grabbed another glass of firewhiskey.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked as he stepped up beside her.

She jumped, nearly sloshing the liquor down the sleeve of her dress robes. "Oh! You startled me."

"Yeah, I can see that, thanks," Ron said, leaning back against the white stone refreshment table. "What are you doing over here all by yourself? Why aren't you mingling?"

"I'm simply having a drink," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "Is that now a crime?"

"It is if that's the only thing you plan to do all evening," Ron said. He reached behind her and grasped a butterbeer from the end of the table. "Why are you hidden away back here?"

"I'm not hidden," she countered calmly. "I'm having a drink."

"Well, go and have a drink with a bloke, then!"

Hermione sighed and threw her head back in exasperation. Her curls slipped over her skin and brushed against the fabric pressed to her lower back. "I should have known," she said as she twisted to look at him head on. "I should have known that Ginny would have recruited you in her daft find-Hermione-a-man scheme."

Ron shrugged. "Well, she's just trying to help. We all are. I mean, we're all paired up, except for you. And after Lavender won my affections instead of you-"

"Ron, I never wanted your affections!"

"We just want to see you happy, 'Mione. That's it," he said with a small shrug. "You can't really blame us for that, can you?"

"I can find happiness on my own, thank you very much," she said. Unconsciously, her eyes darted across the room to where the potions master stood. She took another swig of firewhiskey.

Ron noticed her movement. "Can you? Because it seems to me like you have your eyes on someone, but you're too afraid of taking a risk. You're being a bit of a coward."

"I'm being a realist," she protested. "I know that my... ridiculous and nonsensical attraction will be met with scorn and nothing more. There is no reason to try."

"How about just to take the chance?" Ron asked. He stood up a little straighter and looked down at her. "Why not just ask for a dance, for something? Worse comes to worse, he says no. That's it, end of story. But at least you did something. At least you tried. That's better than what you're doing now, isn't it? Which is nothing."

"Ron-" she began, intending to rebuff his claims. But then she caught the man's eyes. Suddenly, she found herself locked in a staring contest with the man who'd been invading her thoughts all night long. She was watching him, and he was watching her back. He didn't look disgusted, he didn't look irritated. He looked... intrigued. Intrigued by her.

"Since when did you get to be so wise?" she muttered to her friend, keeping her eyes locked on those of the man across the room.

Ron chuckled. "Since you became to thick. Come on now, love. Into the fire. Take a leap of faith. You'll never know until you try."

She finally broke eye contact with the potions master. She turned to Ron, making a face. "Just how many more cliches do you plan on using?"

He rolled his eyes, though, and gestured off in the direction of the other side of the hall. "Go and get him. Whoever he is, just go and woo the pants off of him."

"I hope you didn't mean that literally," she muttered, turning her sights once more on him, on Severus Snape.

Ron winced. "Now you stop that! You'll give me nightmares."

"Thank you, Ron," she said as she set her drink down on the table. Without hesitating, she began to push her way through the crowd, all the while keeping her stare locked upon Severus'.

"Anytime!" he called after her.

She didn't notice, though, as she was making a straight line towards the potions master, her ex-professor, and the most interesting man in the room. His eyes were smoldering, questioning, studying hers as she approached him, and she found it impossible to look away. As she stepped up to him, she found herself breathless and unsure of what to say. This was unusually bold of her; what would one do in a situation like this?

Luckily for her, he spoke first. "Miss Granger," he said. A shiver ran down her spine at those two simple words. His voice still held that deep, dark, honey quality to it that could easily distract her from a fireworks display.

"Professor," she said, keeping her eyes trained on his own. Neither person said anything for a moment; both just stared at each other. Watching. Waiting. She swallowed, unsure of what to do next. He isn't running, she realized. He's waiting for me to speak. He wants me to make the next move. She took a deep breath as a nervous feeling of power came over her. Into the fire... "Professor... would you like to dance?"


End file.
